Alpha Team Chronicles
by 10000reasons
Summary: The stories of Alpha team's members and their proudest moments before the PAWS. Follow Ryder, Chase, Marshall, Skye, Rubble, Rocky, Zuma, Everest, and the others in their stories before the events you know as the protect and watch service. Rated for war and all that can be expected inside one.
1. Apache's Knife

PAWS is taking a while. So I'm writing some shorties while the writers block works its self out. Just bare with me.

X X X X

The Apache's Knife

Word of wisdom: they said the gun always beat the knife in a gun fight. Under normal circumstances, yeah, sure it would, no doubt. To a marine? A marine is not a normal circumstance.

—Skye G. Heffron, June 10, 2015

Skye hated being on a ship but she couldn't complain. She could be in a dusty desert with her brothers and sisters going on patrols right now. Then again, she was a helo pilot so she didn't have a place as infantry. She probably didn't want to go on patrols anyway. The LHD ship was steady but that didn't stop the crew from getting sea sick. Sea sickness was rare but hard to fight. Chow was hard to grab too. Half the ship was basically the line. So maybe a dusty desert wasn't so bad.

"Choices choices," she sighed to herself. She was tired of making them. She had never been so tired of making choices herself until she was voluntold to ride the Kearsarge. The wasp-class ship had never been her choice of duty station... well transport, however the USMC never cared, or very rarely cared, about what you wanted. Wish lists were just comforting tree killers. They only make them so you think they aren't wasting paper. "Stupid needs of the corps. If I ever become Sergeant Major, I swear, some changes will be made in this place."

"Hey, Heffron!" Skye turned around and smiled, "Morning, doc, what's the rush?"

Doc Stephen chuckled and said, "Your dental record. You have a cavity on your right second molar. We have to take care of it soon. I just noticed you when I was on my way for chow."

Skye internally screamed. She was not ready to deal with a dentist. She hated dentist. Above them on the list was Al-Qaeda then ISIS. Well terrorists in general. Didn't matter what kind. "O-oh. Uh. Thanks...doc."

"Heffron, I'm serious, get to dentil and get that cavity screwed out or it'll screw you out of the Corps faster than you can say class three emergency."

"How can a cavity be an emergency?" Skye yelled as he started down the p-way.

"Wait and see. You'll feel it...trust me." Stephen climbed down a ladder-well and disappeared.

Skye growled and sighed. She walked herself to her living quarters and into the head. she looked herself in the mirror and opened her mouth. As she tried to find the lousy cavity in her mouth she was surprised by a consecutive persistent sound of gongs sound overhead as well as a voice on the 1-MC overhead say, "This is the TSA! Vampire inbound! Port side! Vampire inbound! Port side! All hand, brace for shock!"

She could hear it through the halls, hear through the living space, Thad dreadful call she thought she would never hear. "BRACE FOR SHOCK!"

She raced to the nearest bulkhead she could find in the head, leaned forward against it feet apart and parallel. Her hands were outstretched and she opened her mouth wide. Her eyes clenched down resister the urge to bite down hard. Finally she felt it. The impact of a torpedo. It was far worse then she imagined. The sound of it was so loud, the rumble was so intense. She compared it to the feeling of an unstable roller coaster or an earthquake and still couldn't find it justice to explain the terrible feeling.

"Relax brace! All hands set ship to circle X-Ray and Circle Yoke. Tend to general quarters. I say again..." the 1-MC cut off and a new one took its place. "Vampire inbound Vampire inbound! Aft side! All hands, brace for shock! Brace for shock!"

"Fuck!" She braced again this time the lights went out. "Sarge we need to muster! Everyone is going to general quarters!"

"All hands, be advised! We have lost our Port side engine! Say again we have lost our port side engine! Set ship and battle dress! Go to general quarters! Maintain watertight integrity!"

"You heard him marines! We need to help out the Sailors keep this girl afloat! We are under attack as we speak and general quarters has been set..." a phone in the space rang. He answered it quickly. "Room two tac two three two tac one tac el. Yes...but we havent't mustered yet! I don't know if I...got I understand. Urah. Alright listen up! The gunners mates responsible for the topside are trapped or hit. Our job is to take that deck back. Infantry has been spotted boarding the ship. We're going to show them this ain't a fucking battleship. This ship has marines on it! Rah!?"

"Rah kill rah!"

Sit had been too long since Skye shot a gun. She didn't know if she was up for a counter offensive. But she still sounded off.

"Let's go! Anyone who is not here is being instructed to help wit the breach. Let's fucking go! Ge tot the armory!"

The space of marines made their way to the armory, got a weapon and, axe their way to the deck. Before they opened the door they prepared and checked on each other. There was no armor to protect them. Wrong steps would surely mean death. Skye gulped and looked back at her friend, Abraham. He was her gunner. If they just had a helo this would make things so much easier. There wasn't much space on the flight deck. If something hit them then even her helo was a clipped bird. They had to do something to stop these attacks. They didn't know if another torpedo was going to hit. Once they made it out a firefight already broke out. One marine down already. Skye shot near weapon but only managed to make noise. They took cover behind anything they could and fight back and forth. The enemy took one marine but they didn't expect to loose five of their own.

"Amatures! Can they aim?"

"Don't know but they're outfitted to do the job!"

Skye looked around the deck and tried to find something that could keep this advantage they had. No knowing if there was something that would surprise them. She realized ash she thought it she jinxed it.

Abraham shouted as loud as he could, "Hostiles six o'clock!"

Some of the marines turned around and gunned them down quickly. Skye ran to another ruined vehicle before they could get her. She was able to suppress the fire of some but no kills. I. A way she was happy about it. She didn't like the idea of taking a life. Now it seemed as if they were coming from all sides. "Sarge tell me they're sending more marines!"

"I don't know, keep firing!" He shouted at her.

She didn't like the sound of that. Then she heard someone scream and shout, "I'm hit."

Abraham dragged him close to cover and put pressure on his wound. "He's got a wound on his chest! We need a corpsman!

"We can't help him!" Shouted a marine, "Sarge we've gotta shoot back! There no way to administer aid and there's no corpsman on deck!"

"Leave him corporal! Private can you fight back still?" He handed him back his rifle.

The private took it back tried to breath. "I don't got too long, Sarge." He gasped, "My right side hurts."

"I know, you can fight it. You got this, private come on! Fight back!"

Skye watched as the private got back on the line and shot back. It motivated her and even the whole team to see him fight back regardless of his condition. Still, no more marines were showing. They only packed so much ammo too.

"Sarge! We're getting low! We need help!" Skye shouted.

"You see a cell phone on me! Find a sound-powdered telephone and I will make the call my damn self!"

She didn't know where to look on a flight deck but not all was lost. At the corner of her eyes and the forward port side of the deck she could barely see a lone Apache. Her eyes widened.

"Abraham! The knife's okay! Look!"

He peaked out and his eyes widened. "Rah kill fucking rah. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"We can run it." She nodded, "getting her fired up will take a few minutes but we can take out that boat that's after us!"

She could barely see the small arms vessel a good distance away. It still had a few boats coming from it. What did they want. That wasn't important. What was was finding a way to get to the knife. The only way she could see way running. "Sarge! I have an idea! Suppressing fire! Abraham! Ready?"

"Always read!"

"Forward!"

"The fuck are you doing Heffron?"

"At a double time!"

"Any fucking time!"

"No don't! Stay here that's an order!"

"March!" She there her ammo and rifle down, Abraham doing the same and running with her at top speed.

"Shit! Covering fire!" She could practically hear the anger in her sergeant's voice. She and Abraham could hear the bullets wiz past and ricochet off the deck. None of them we're hitting. They reached the attacker and boarded quickly. She engaged it and got the blades to turn. The ricochet of the bullets pressured her to work faster. "Come on girl, take off for me. You haven't failed me yet."

Abraham started talking to her too, "Knife we love you please hurry."

The blades were going faster! "Come on old girl." Finally she could feel them lift her helo off the ground. "Hell yeah! Let's tear the up!"

"Guns going hot! Guns guns guns!" The mini gun revved and aimed at the attackers. It makes down the first group then the second. Skye moved with wicked speed. Abraham aimed at everything that he could tell was friendly. He prayed he didn't hit a marine. The help went to the ocean itself.

"Rockets armed, give 'em hell."

"Rocket's...away! I almost feel sorry for the bastards." Abraham shot the twin guns and hit a small boat. He used the mini gun as the rockets were preparing for another engagement and fired the second batch as it had finally armed. This pattern worked for as long as there was a boat on that ocean. The marines were clearing the two on from the flight deck as they demolished the offensive. The ship was next.

"They've got anti air!" Abraham said recognizing the guns on the deck.

"So do I but it dosn't always work does it?" She smirked. She saw a missile go up. Just what she needed. "Prepare for a run."

"Arming."

She headed towards the missile and turned as it arched forward to her and rotate as if just missed her. It circled around only to run into the ships starboard side. She took this time to tell Abraham to shoot the guns. He aimed for anything explosive and already got the deck in chaos.

"Okay. That should give us time to launch an offensive. Gun for any bodies!"

"Gotcha! These guys don't even look like any country I've seen. Do you recognize them?"

"They look...American." Skye said as she maneuvered and got sight of the ants on deck. "Rocket's primed."

"Firing!" He waited for her to angle just right and fired the rockets into the bridge. "Rah kill kill! That's gonna hurt!"

"Apache pilot, this is Captain Gorman, identify yourself.

"Lance corporals Heffron and Abraham, what can we do for your sir?"

"You are the only offensive we have right now, keep at the ship until back up comes. We have a destroyer on its way."

"How long have we got? I think this ship has a friend nearby."

"It does. Look to your left eight o'clock." Skye adjusted her sights and found the ship he mentioned.

"Sir, they look American. Didn't we identify them?"

"We can't identify the ships. We have no record of them being any hostile force know to us. The ship models themselves are new."

"I knew I didn't recognize these models." Skye said to herself.

"I do," Abraham spoke up, "Sir, these are historical models. They've been modeled after the German ship Bismarck with a twist. There are no signs of these guys being Nazi Germany though."

"You are sure corporal?"

"Positive, sir. Heffron, we gotta gun them down. They may look like the Bismarck but they sure ain't as tough."

"I thought the Bismarck was impenetrable!" Skye shouted.

"It was. But it going to be just like the Royal Air Force. Heffron, we are destroying these fuckers with a lucky shot."

"Make those shots count, we don't have a lot of ammo left," Skye warmed.

"That's What makes them so lucky," Grinned Abraham.

Skye thrusted forward and the help raced to the offensive. Most her supplies were used on the first ship. They needed to make this one count. They started by circaling around and taking out infantry as fat as possible the. Running off as an a gun locked and shot a round she dangerously flew passed Kearsarge's brigade and spire then dangerously barrel rolled over the first opponent ship. The locked missile ran straight into the ship and the next one following did the same. There wears another on its way for sure. She rushed the maneuver to give Abraham time to shoot. He got the shot just in time to take out the guns and return to the mini. They circled around the deck of the ship taking out any hostile force and escaping to the other side or other ship as the ship had found some way to fight back. Soon the rockets were dry and they only thing they had was a few shots of the mini. Fuel had started to become an issue as well.

"Heffron they got a lock on us." Abraham said as the alarm was again sounding off that something had locked onto them.

"I hear it," she growled. She maneuvered away hoping she could try another stunt but this was probably going to be the last one. They hand fumes only and her stunts took a but of fuel. "You've only got one shot at this so be good about it. I see something that looks like a supply tank on the top there. See it?"

"Another addition to their wannabe Bismarck." Abraham said as Skye began her maneuver.

"Shoot it and the missile will join its friends." She raced away and around the Kearsarge to disengage the missile lock and then sped forward turning sharply as if it were a u-turn the mini gun revel then shot at the can. "Perfect shot!"

"Yeah! Just like the Bismarck! She's going down!"

"We're low on fuel, we'd better land." She sighed in relief. It was short lived as they spotted another one on its way. "Oh god,"

Before she had to cry and think about a noble action she saw an explosion hit the ship. Their destroyer friend had made it, relief took her once more. Within the day, they recovered from the attack. No ships in sight, dead were remembered and she was recognized for her heroic deeds. Still she had so many questions. Who were they? What did they want? What did they me benefit from attacking them? Were they really a foreign enemy that had gained sea power? Why the Bismarck? But most importantly to her. How did they manage to use torpedos? Well, actually, the question was more of a fascination to her. The real question was if they planned on making this routine. After three months it didn't matter to her. She no longer was a marine, due to the decision of no longer enlisting. She was tired by that time. She had lost her gunner, Abraham...and her helo in one final effort to save a bunch of men. Men the American government seemed to have abandoned. Thus were rescued thanks to her but thanks to them, she was going home as a hero.

Since then Skye had taken a low paying job of piloting a helicopter for a tourist attraction on Adventure Bay. A couple of months later. A black letter showed up in her mailbox. The stunts she pulled as a thinking marine had impressed someone. Skye Heffron had joined the PAWS on July sixth 2016 and still serves to this day as a standby pilot and operator.

X X X

"And that is how I became an operator," Skye smiled.

Everest stared at her and for a second and clicked her tongue. A shrug followed, "Eh, I guess it's cool. I expected more...romance." Everest leaned back and out her right wrist to her forehead. The motioned evolved I to a writhing stretch. It was late at night and they were drinking.

"Romance? How are you going to get romance from any of that anyway?"

"Well...you told me you rode in a cockpit," Everest grinned.

"Yeah the cockpit of a...you lewd little..." Skye hit her friend on the shoulder and laughed with her.

"Hey, you can get anymore romantic then that right?"

"No that's just straight out pornography. Ugh, puns are the lowest form of comedy for a reason. It's because the punter can't make a joke!"

"Hey, if they think of them and apply them cleverly they have made a joke," Everest smiled.

"No, they mutated one. You know what, I'm done with my beer, I'm outa here. Goodnight, Everest."

"Alright goodnight," Everest smiled.

Skye stopped out of Mr Porter's and sighed. She took in a deep breath of the cool but comfortable Adventure Bay air. Above her she could see the lights of a helicopter race overhead. She grinned and wished the pilot luck with whatever he was doing. In the air, she knew she needed all the luck she could get. Especially back then. She closed her eyes once more and remembered the sounds of the Apache, the sounds of shouting on the coms, her gunner's voice, and the adrenaline. But she remembered most what she saw. Her eyes forced open... "Rah kill rah."

X X X X

Jargon dictionary

head— the restroom/ bathroom on a ship.

Ladder-Well— a stair and ladder hybrid for moving up and down decks.

Deck— floors or levels in a ship. Refers to going down the ship(so the deeper you are to sea the deck increases like 1 2 3.)

flight deck— refuses to level 03. This is like saying the third floor but it refers to going up a level or closer to the sky. Aircraft are held here

space— a room.

vampire— torpedo about to make impact

2-232-2-L— said as two tac two three two tac two tac el. This refuses to a space in the room. So imagine looked at a ship in 3D.

-The first "2" refuses to the deck or floor you ar on.

-The second number "232" refuses to the forward most frame of the space. So looking at a ship in birds eye view with the forward part of the ship to the left. You would count one to say three or five hundred diagonal lines to the right until you reach 232. That tells how forward or backwards you need to go.

-The second "2" is in relation to the center, or midline of the ship. There are about five mid lines per se. take the view of the ship I gave you with the forward to the left. The middle is zero. Go up a few centimeters and count one. Return to zero and go down equaldistant and place two there. These midlines refer to how right or left you have to go in the ship. Even is the left odd is the right.

-the final character "L" refers to what kind of space the room is.

*L is living space.

*A is for storage.

*E of for engineering

*F is for fuel and lube oil storage

*M is for magazine and ammo storage spaces

*Q is for miscellaneous things. It could be a storage one day or a pt room the next.

General quarters- this is battle stations to naval personnel.

tac- word for a hyphen in military terms.

Brace for shock- a position with outstretched arms, legs equaldistant apart, and core leaned forward, head between shoulder. Mouth should be wide open as to reframe from breaking teeth. This is used to absorb the impact of a torpedo or other explosive impacting object against a ship and her crew.

bulkhead- a wall

overhead- a ceiling

1-MC- a system used to speak to the entire ship.

captain- an O-3 to most branches but to navy or coast guard this is an O-6. He may also be referd to as the skipper. However the skipper only needs to be the highest ranking officer on the ship. Not necessarily a captain. Skipper is a term not a title so don't go to a captain and say "good morning skipper!" It's sir or captain.

Bridge- the brain of the ship and the location of the helm(a steering wheel basically).

Questions? Comments? Let me know. By the way, I'm curious: who would you like to hear from next?


	2. Nine Lines

Since it was requested, I'm doing Marshall next.

X X X X

Nine Lines

Word of Wisdom: You wanna be a hero? It's easy. Do all the shitty work. Do what no one else will do and eventually you will have done what no one else could do. Sounds crazy, but truth be told no matter what the job is you will save someone wether it's their life, their time, or their resources. And that is what a hero does.

—Marshall A. Benton, October 6th, 2011

Two men walked the alleyways of the Syrian City of Deir-Ezzor. They spoke to one another secretly but kept their weapons in hand. As they turned another corner of the roughly populated city they found a women sitting with her son, whispering quietly. They didn't think much of it but they scowled at her. Her hand was hidden in her cloth as she spoke.

"You! Woman! What is in your hand!" She turned her face and hair well hidden. Her son looked alarmed at them and his hands disappeared into his mother's cloth only to pull out a nine millimeter pistol. The mother stood up quickly and faster than they could blink extended the stock of an Uzi and cocked the hammer. They didn't have enough time to react before the bullets flew into their body. The woman uncovered her face to reveal she was instead a man. He had a thick beard and long brown hair. His skin was very tan but roamed white enough to reveal he was an American. "American?" One groaned.

Despite this, the man spoke perfect Aribic, "Aabinus, watch for more!"

The small twelve year old boy could barely hold the gun in his hands but had surprising control over it. Most thanks to the American himself. Still as the American worked finishing off the terrorist and taking his and his partner's weapons and ammo, he frowned. The boy was so young...too young. But the vigilantes needed every able body...no matter the age or innocence they had to sacrifice.

"No one is coming, Miracle!" He said quietly.

"Good, take this!" He handed one of the rifles and bags of ammo to the child. "Now hurry, we have to go, before they investigate!"

"There! There they are!" Aabinus exclaimed. He had quickly wrapped the rifles strap around his little body and ran with the American he called Miracle. Two more men came and investigated. They shouted and pointed their guns in every which way to find them. By then Miracle and Aabinus were already running out of the alley, across the streets to yet another alleyway. They stashed the weapons and ammo away in a house and repeated this attack to another force. By the time they we're done with that attempt there was already five other guns inside.

"Good, the other teams have been successful. We have one more run, Aabinus, how much ammo do you have?" Asked Miracle.

The boy took out his magazine and pointed to a number. "This many. This is my last one."

"That's more than enough, ready?" He asked.

The boy nodded. They ran out in search for another duo. Instead they found a group of three lounging and talking about the politics of their government. He originally would ignore the. But one of them had an RPG. Miracle knew the rules but such a great opportunity couldn't be passed up. He had his back against the wall uzi in hand. He tried to think. What was the best way to approach the matter? He knew Aabinus stood no match for the grown men if they got too close. The best approach he could see was distraction. He had two knives on him. Aabinus had one. They could do this quietly. It was probably not worth it though. Miracle looked at the boy. They could do it. They had to.

"Aabinus," He whispered. And the boy came close. "There are three men down there. One of them has an RPG." Aabinus smiled. He knew what getting heavier equipment meant. "Yeah, I thought you would be up for it. Here's what I want you to do. Get on the other side of this passage, a cross from me. Make some noise and get them to investigate. I'll take it from there while I deal with two of them. Get the last one. Don't shoot a single bullet unless you have to. Use your shiv."

Aabinus nodded, "Okay."

"Okay, let's do it." Miracle nodded.

Aabinus looked around the corner, and scurried like a rat in a dump to the opposite side of Miracle. He looked at Miracle for confirmation before making his distraction. "Papa! Papa! Where are you? Papa!"

"What is that?" Asked one of the men. They made their way over weapons in front. "Boy! What have we told you! You and your family are supposed to be in doors! Who is your father! He will an example for this rebelliousness!"

Aabinus smiled and replied, "He is close by."

"What does that..." Miracle's knives drove onto one of the men behind the other two. They turned and Aabinus drove his knife into the stomach of one of the men closest to him. He pushed him over so he could have access to more vital areas for the kill. The third and final nearly shouted but Miracle cut his throat with the precision of a hashashin. The last one gripped his throat and choked on the blood flowing into his airway. Miracle finished by driving his knife into his skull.

He put the knives away and started for the gear. "Get the launcher. Over there, by the end of the alley." He whispered so they could keep the atmosphere of stealth. Aabinus crept over to the launcher and grabbed it by the strap. He rested it in the pit of his elbows and hugged it whilst carefully coming back to Miracle. Miracle too it for him and gave him an AK to hold instead then ran back to the rendezvous where they stashed the weapons. The three other teams were there waiting.

Miricle knocked on the door in a pattern and waited. They were greeted by a heavy bearded man who widened his eyes at the sight of the two. "Miracle! Come away from the street! Come in!" They we're let in and be offered a seat to them. "Pleas sit. I see you have found heavier weapons. This will surely help our cause." He and two others took the weapons they had and put them in the middle of the circle. They gave Miracle a piece of paper. "This is what we have recorded so far. Add what you have and we can take these and leave this place for home!"

Miracle snapped his fingers and got the three who helped him to being back what he had. Teheran counted the rounds manually and the weapons he had and wrote them on the paper, "This is all I have. Put them in the truck and we can get out of here." The ammo and weapons were all put into separate boxes before being packed up and moved to the back of a large troop carrier. It was a bond ones long ago, but thanks to Miracle they got it working again. Once it was loaded. They all boarded the back while Miracle too the wheel. Aabinus sat in front with him. "Ready, Aabinus?" Miracle smiled.

Aabinus nodded, "Uh huh."

Miracle shifted the gears and drove from the back alley to the streets. They had escaped the city without being noticed. From there it was a fifteen minute drive to a camp they called home. It was out I. The middle of the Syrian desert. A flat bit of land hidden by a couple lone mountains. There was a small city of tents some of them were modernized while others were in the Bedouin fashion. Several barrels of different colors and boxes also littered the area. Many armed men and women posted in different areas or walked normally with a weapons sling around their shoulder or holstered to their side. All them were Syrians who had had enough of depending on a faction to care for them, or in some cases take their life. They decided to fend for themselves, war or no war. They were called rebels, but in truth they were armed hermits. Skilled armed hermits. Two of them were once experienced, seasoned Israeli commandos. They were the only two Israeli in the area. Just like Miracle was the only American. Once a delta force, now an MIA soldier using his skill set, like the Israeli, and his experience of healing to the benefit of these hermits. As he parked, several children came to greet him and worship Aabinus as the bravest of them all. Amongst the babbling and the many hugs he had given them, a man approached to receive a hug if his own.

"Marshall, my brother!" He was greeted with open arms. Still Miracle, or more properly, Marshall had yet to hear a word of English. He never thought about it. Since he first got here he had only ever spoken Arabic. It was almost the only language he knew.

"It is good to see you, Razib." They hugged and Marshall greeted the three men who accompanied him in the same manner, "It is good to see you all as well. Alim, Everything is well since I left?"

"Just as you left it my friend," Alim smiled. Alim was head if security as it were. He was the best that the two Israeli had ever trained. And the best Marshall had in that instance. However he was best known as serving as the vice leader.

"Bari, Abdul, I see Razib is still in one piece. You have done well then." Bari was the second best rivaled by the next man Adbul who, with him, acted as Razib's escorts. "A great man deserved great protection," as the people would say. So he allowed them to guard him. That did not stop them from acting as agent on his behalf however.

"We have done as best as we were taught." Bari smiled.

Abdul chuckled. "He is not a hard man to protect. No enemy has ever found us to kill him. He will not be in harms way. Even should it come."

"I am glad." Marshall smiled.

Razib smiled as well, proud of his men. He examined Marshall's attire and laughed. "I see you are still dressed like a woman."

Marshall raised his eyebrows and looked down. A smile reached his face. "I see you are still dressed like a rebel leader aren't you hermits, my friend?"

Razib sighed as his laughter relaxed. He began to walk, inviting Marshall to come with him. Aabinus followed behind Marshall. "That was who we are. In some times like the present, I do not know anymore. We arm ourselves for battle, we train ourselves for war, we... prepare ourselves for ceremonies. It is as if we expect to join the war on terror."

Marshall and the four men with him watched a training group surrounded two men wrestling in a circle of stone. One finally tapped the sand and the fight was over. "Do you think you will declare war on these people? Do you tend to avenge those who have fallen the the terrorists?"

"I tend to seek justice," Razib smiled. "But I will not take revenge. So, if it were my choice, I would continue as we are now. But lately...we have been growing. Much like an infection born by the thorn in terror's side. We are becoming a new beginning of a nation. And with the supplies you have provided for us, thanks to your plans, we may have new supplier. One without the need of sending ten men, but four instead."

"What do you mean? A new supplier? You man like...a trade?"

"Yes, come with me. I want you to speak to him. You know what is fair and what is just. I do not want this man making deals with us if he only seeks to benefit us and give no benefit back. The commandos...I trust them...but not like I trust you. And I have only known you for little less than a year. Please, do this for us."

"I don't need you to beg Razib. I'll take care of it." Marshall assured, "Aabinus, run along. Return to your sister, she will need you."

Aabinus nodded and replied, "Yes, Miracle."

Razib chuckled as Aabinus scurried off. "He is a strong boy, yes? Young, but strong."

"He's only twelve and he's killing men twice his age, Razib. He's too Young for this."

"Understand, I have no desire to do this," Razib said, trying yet again to convince Marshall of it's necessity, "But we are low on men and if the children wish to fight how are they different than us? We are children of God wishing to fight agains his enemies."

"At least we can feel regret and sorrow and understand the weight of death at the age of twenty. Once Aabinus reaches that age, he will feel nothing and think of it as nothing. Aabinus makes me nervous. When his mother died he didn't cry for her. When his father died he didn't cry for him. When one of his younger sisters bled out in front of him he felt nothing. He knows what love is but he doesn't understand it's power, it's feeling. He's growing to be a husk."

"If this deal works, I assure you, not even he will see battle again. I will never let another child set foot out of this camp as a soldier. But for now, I ask you teach him as a father would his own son. He weeps not for his parents because he knows he has you. He weeps not for his sister because he knows he has two more. I know how you Americans think. And one day, I hope we can share the same view, my friend. But as I said, for now, we do what we must."

"Then I sure as hell hope this guy is the real thing." Marshall sighed.

"He is just inside. It is time for you to see." Razib motioned at the Bedouin tent. Bari and Abdul opened the curtains giving Marshall passage. Marshall made his way inside and found a man with his back turned. He was examining the fabric of the tent.

"If find that fascinating you might find what I'm wearing a better style." Marshall didn't mean to come off odd; a joke about his attire just seemed like a good way to start a conversation. Though the use of Arabic was probably not helping. However he was answered in the same language.

"You normally wear the cloths of a woman?" His accent proved he was more a foreigner than Marshall. Marshall had practiced long enough to develop perfect Arabic. This man seemed to use it as a secondary if not a tertiary language. His tall and large figure, pale skin, and balled head made it obvious he was European. If Marshall had to guess, he was Russian.

"Not normally, no. But...," Marshall took out his hidden Uzi and put it down on a table and sat down, "I do carry this twenty-four seven. What about you?"

The big man smiled and pulled out a snub nose .500 Smith and Wesson magnum. "I carry bigger gun. Kill in one shot, saves ammo." Marshall was surprised by the sudden change of languages. He also at didn't recognize it...even if it was his. It took Marshall a while to understand the man. Especially with his thick Russian accent.

"You speak English?" He asked. "You do a lot of business?"

"I am all business. I am business man. I work for a black market. One I'm sure you _haven't_ heard of."

"Well you got me there," Marshall replies, "So, who haven't I heard of. There's a lot of them."

"We are a large business. One that has taken great pains to be kept underground. We are called Firefighter."

"Firefighter," Marshall chuckled. "Why?"

The Russian smiled. He smacked his lips and started pacing. "A firefighter stops a flame from happening, or stops it from getting worse. A firefighter is also a term for a warrior yes? When they are stuck in a firefight between warriors?"

"Well, not quite." Marshall sighed, "So how would you say that in Russian? Firefighter, I mean."

" _Pozharneyy,_ " The man replied.

Marshall echoed it. "So what does Pozharneyy do as a market? If it is illegal, why give yourself the name of a civil rescue service?"

"Like a firefighter can mine a warrior or a healer. We wish to do the same. But by...none political routes? We wish to avoid the politics and give to you what you want without a bickering parliament or a indecisive Congress. We simply believe that a man should get what he want if he deserves it."

"So, Razib's group isn't the only one your backing?" Marshall asked.

"No, it is not. We support so much more. And so much bigger." He smiled sinisterly. It ended when he took a deep breath and sat down across from Marshall. "I believe we need to introduce ourselves. I am Ivan. You are?"

"Miracle," Marshall replied.

"I thought I would meet you. The Miracle of the Oppressed. Left behind by his A,Erica Kin so God could deliver them from the valley of shadow and death. You have a reputation that precedes you."

"Thank you," Marshall smiled, "I see that. Though I would say that the title is a bit overkill."

Ivan nodded but changed the subject. "That is not the matter I am here to discuss with you. I have come to discuss business."

Marshall leaned in. "Yes, so I've heard. So, what is that you want on turn of supplying these people?"

Ivan smiled. Not much more was said for a few seconds after that.

X X X

Marshall stepped out of the tent examining the 500 S&W he now possessed. His Uzi lazily hung off his body.

"What did the trader say? What did you do? Is the deal fair?" Razib Asked.

"It's more than fair," Marshall replied, "It's almost too fair, but I can't find any catches."

"What does he want?" Razib Asked.

Marshall sighed and looked at his new gun. He looked back up at Razib and replied, "He wants to have us give the equivalent to what was stollen from his company. A trade long ago under the disguise as an American trade ship was attacked and robbed. He wants this list filled out. In return he's willing to supply you for five years. The rest will need to be paid for."

"Fair enough," Razib nodded, "So we give him our supplies, yes?"

"We don't have enough," Marshall replied.

"Then what do we do?" Razib Asked, "How do we fill a list this large?"

Marshall thought about it and replied, "We have to get it the slow way. They way we've been doing it."

"That could take months!" Razib exclaimed.

Marshall knew this, just as much as Razib did, "I know. But we don't have a choice. Better get started."

It had been three months later since the meeting. They had nearly filled out the list. One more run would do it. Marshall exited his small tent. He had to be carful since Aabinus and his younger sister had slept with him. He didn't want to wake them so early. He still wore his Delta cargoes tucked into his old dusty combat boots. His blouse was worn like an unbuttoned over-shirt. As soon as he stepped out he put a pair of black Oakley sunglasses on. He slung an AK over his shoulder and a bag of ammo then walked to a nearby blue barrel. He let the warm water soak his hands before spreading it over his face and hair then taking a few drinks from it. He filled an old canteen and the water was turned off. The canteen was returned to belt and he continued to journey to another tent. Inside he washed his hands properly and put on a pair of gloves and a mask. As soon as he stepped into the main compartment of it all, he stepped over to a young man who was coughing all night.

"How have you been feeling?" Marshall asked. The man tried to answer but the coughing did all the talking. Marshall pat his back and dug into a medicine cabinet. Thanks to Ivan's business, he had more advanced medicines in the cabinet. He crabbed a codeine coated acetaminophen pill and gave it to him along with his canteen. "Swallow this. It'll take the coughing down and allow you to rest. Throat sore?" The man nodded. "It'll take care of that too. Just rest, alright?" There was a nod. Marshall wanted to tend to the next but he was interrupted by an Israeli.

"Miracle, we're ready."

Marshall nodded."I need to tend to the patients first. I'll be right out in a second."

The Israeli nodded and left Marshall to his patients. Most of them were wounds but a few were sick with persistent illnesses. Once Marshall passed down instructions to the woman acting as nurses he stepped out and joined the commandos. The three of them were going to take a risky move. Nearby in one of the cities was a small base that the terrorists used as an armory. It was less of a base and more of a well kept building with fortified positions and a lot of guards. They were going to to steal the last of what they needed and deliver it to Ivan's people. That way the deal could be complete and the "rebels" could stand on their own. They packed into the troop carrier weapons in hand and took off. The people waved at them and wished them luck. Marshall and Razib made eye contact. Razib gave him a nod.

It was nightfall and the three loaded their weapons and checked their equipment. Marshall got on a radio and asked, "Razib, are you in position?"

"Yes, my friend. If you are in need of assistance we will be close by and ready. Good luck."

Marshall nodded at the commandos who asked if he was ready with a hand motion. "Thank you, Razib. God be with us all."

"Let's move, they may find this truck if we don't act quickly." Said one.

Marshall nodded, "Be that as it may, it's not like they could start it." Marshall dangled the keys.

The Israeli nodded and took point. They moved in a disciplined fashion keeping their eyes in every able direction. They didn't speak. Only hand signals would tell what they needed to say. They had to move so carefully that even the sand under them would not move. They used their knives since there was a lack of suppressors. The infiltration was so far successful. They had reached the armory and were taking what they needed. Marshall watched their backs as they loaded up. Once they got all they could carry. Marshall got the rest and they had to carefully make their way back. Midway, the alarm was already sounded.

"Must have found the bodies. I thought we hid them." Said one of the commandos.

"No, look. They're running out of the base." Said the other.

"Something's got them riled up," Marshall said as he hid with them. They were shouting at each other. Trying to get to positions. They escaped thanks to all of the confusion. As they loaded the truck they could hear distant gun fire.

"What is that? Who's is fighting?" Asked one of the commandos.

Marshall shook his head. Then it hit him. "Razib! Razib, are you engaged?"

"No, we are still standing by. We hear gunfire but from you it seems. What is it?" Asked Razib.

"I don't know, I thought it was you." Marshall replied.

"I will see if I can get a visual," Razib said. It only took. A few minutes before Razib replied in an alarmed voice, "Marshall! My friend, they are Americans!"

Marshall stopped what he was doing and asked, "What?"

Razib didn't answer for a few seconds. "They wear the same uniform you wear!"

Marshall looked at the direction that he could hear the gunfire. The Israeli already knew what he was thinking. "Miracle, don't. You have to finish this. They need you."

Marshall looked at his rifle then at the truck. He looked back at the distant gunfire and gripped it. "You two are more than capable. Wish me luck. Razib, I'm on my way!" Marshall ran at the gunfire. The Israeli tried to stop him but he was too far away. They looked at each other as he turned a building corner. Marshall stayed low and crept through a building to a rooftop. He used the closeness of the roofs as a path so he could avoid the hostile running through the alleys. He got a vantage point and could see a familiar sight. He could hear English being shouted. Marshall could also see Razib had moved to assist the American forces. A welcome change in their luck. Marshall madehis way down the the building he was on and reached the road. There in front of him was a dead medic. He checked the vitals and sighed. "Sorry about this brother." Marshall took all the medical equipment and the tags then headed for the firefight.

"Ah! I'm hit!" He heard an American cry.

Another one followed. "Hold on! Just keep...shit! Oh god! Man down we got a man down! Sarge that's two!"

"Keep calm!" Said another one, "We can still do this!"

"RPG!" An explosion followed. Razib's men weren't doing much better.

"Marshall! Where are you?" Razib shouted in the radio.

Marshall finally found the place. It was a street with a convoy. Two humves were blown and there was already too many casualties. He took his rifle off safety. "Here!"

He opened fire moving out of cover and taking out six terrorists in one fell sweep before reentering cover. He could see one of the me. A distance away from him. He groaned and covered his chest. Marshall's old training kicked in as he fired back. He had to remember the words. He hadn't spoken English since Ivan had helped him remember some of it. Finally it was all coming back to him. He leaned over and found the soldier before shouting, "Soldier! Soldier! Can hear me?"

The soldier looked up and around, "Hello?"

"Soldier, can you return fire?" He shouted next.

"I can't find my weapon!" the soldier cried. "I can't find my weapon! Somebody help!"

"Stay with me! Can you administer self aid?"

"I can't! I can't! I can't do anything! I can't do anything! Help!"

"Can you move to me or cover?" Marshall shouted last.

"I can't please help! Help!" The soldier was already broken into tears. He was so afraid. Marshall had to wonder what he had to lose. But by God he wan't going to let him lose it.

Marshall grabbed his radio, "Razib! Cover me! I'm running after a wounded!"

"Wait where are you?" Razib shouted. Marshall broke for the soldier and grabbed him he dragged him by the flak and into his cover. "Razib, make your way to me. I need cover just in case!"

Dawn was just cracking open and the night wasn't going to cover him anymore. Incidentally, a soldier had seen him and ran to him. "Dude, That was hella gutsy! None us were covering you! Why didn't you say something...Wait...what the hell? Who are you?"

Marshall grabbed the soldier's IFAC and went for its contents. The soldier was bleeding out on the left leg. He took a pair of trauma shears from his bag and cut the put his knee on the soldier's pelvic. The soldier cried out in pain, "Aaaaaah! Stop! Stop! It hurts! That fucking hurts doc!"

"Shut up! You want to live let me do my thing! You! Cover me," Marshall ordered.

The soldier looked at him unsure of what to do but complied, "Roger that! Just save him!"

Marshall finally tightened and fixed the tourniquet and released pressure off the soldier who breathed finally feeling relief. "Ah fuck, that's tight!"

"Your bleeding on your left leg, if I didn't do that you would bleed out," Marshall explained. "Now hold still so I can get this shit off of you." Marshall started to take all the equipment off including the blouse. He sheared the shirt and ripped it open then put one hand atop the other making a fan and scrapped across his chest and stomach like a rake with his fingertips. He found a bullet hole on the soldier's chest. Left side. It must have happened before the RPG. He dug into the IFAC and grabbed the first of two occlusive dressings. "How you breathing? Talk to me."

"My...my left side hurts!" Said the soldier.

Marshall finished occluding the dressing and moved the soldier on his side doing the same raking motion on his back finding another, bigger hole. He occluded it as well.

"It's a little hard to.. breath."

"You're having a tension pneumothorax. You got a couple whole in your chest cavity. I just took care of them." Marshall grabbed a pen like object and opened it. He grabbed the needle inside and said, "You may feel a bit of a pinch." Marshall felt his collar bone and went down counting two gaps between the ribs. The needle was pointed downward at a ninety degree angle. He inserted it with ease then took out the metal needle only leaving the plastics tube. He could hear a hiss from the tube. The soldier sighed in relief as breathing became easier. "Better?"

"Tons...Yeah."

"Good." Marshall began checking the rest of his body. He found a number of wounds but only paid attention to two of them. He had only so much supplies to use. He didn't know how much blood was lost but he could tell there was a lot. But to how the soldier's condition was there wasn't enough to worry about. Still, Marshall dug for an IV kit and immediately got access to his veins. "Hey, see this?" Marshall got the attention of the soldier covering him. "Don't mess with it. But help me get him to your guys. I need a radio and our coordinates. We have to evacuate him."

"Got it!" He said setting up to help carry him. Marshall grabbed his radio and said, "Razib cover us and retreat with us, we got to go!"

"I know where you are this time. I will do as you say!" Razib replied.

"Your speak really good Arabic and English. Which one are you?" Asked the soldier.

"Sargent first class Marshall Benton, delta force. I got left behind a year ago."

"Delta!?" The soldier asked. Marshall shot a terrorist with his magnum before saying, "Let's move!" The both grabbed him and started moving the soldier to the rest.

"Cover fire!" The soldier shouted.

The heard of M4s went off as he shouted. The terrorists on the other side didn't get a chance to fire a shot. As soon as the reached cover Marshall started back on the soldier. "How are you doing buddy?" He reassessed Everything he did, ensuring it was all still the way he made it.

"It hurts still doc," the soldier replied.

"I know. What's your name?" Marshall started getting a syringe ready.

"Pledge, my name is Private Andy Pledge."

"Well, Private, you're a long way from home and a short way from hell. You signed up for a hell of a job."

"Yeah...I know." Marshall put the Medici e through the IV after ensuring it was the right dose. "I just gave you a gram of ketamine. That will help you with the pain, alright?"

"I can feel it already," Pledge smiled.

"Let's get out of here," Marshall said, "Razib, got that transport still?"

"Yes, we are ready to leave!" Razib's replied.

"Alright let's get out of here." Marshall got off his radio and said to the soldiers, "Follow the guys in black over there, there with me. Move! We're getting out of here!"

The same soldier who helped Marshall move Pledge helped him again as they carried him with the rebels and I to the trucks. They loaded and left in hast. Marshall kept on his wounded soldier. He had quite a story to tell the soldier's curious about him. Not many were left. A convoy that seemed it was supposed to be at lease forty looked now like twelve. When they got back to the tents they took him into the tent with the other wounded. The soldier's watched as Marshall did the last finishing touches to care for the soldier.

Marshall relaxed when he was finally done. "You have a radioman?"

"I got it," one of them said handing him the radio. Marshall could hear a few voices on it. It had been a while since he did this. He almost wandered if he could. "Did you get our coordinates like I asked?" He asked another soldier.

"Yeah, here," the soldier gave him the numbers on paper.

Marshall sighed again taking them and looking them over. He put the radio down then wrote down a couple of things. "Who's the receiver?"

"Excuse me?" Asked a soldier.

"Who's picking this guy up? Call sign?"

"Oh, we're Zulu two two. There Zulu main," was the reply.

Marshall wrote the info down When he was satisfied he picked the radio up again. He could still hear the chatter in English but couldn't understand any of the fuzzy words. Finally he pushed the button after taking control of his nervous hand, "Zulu main this is Zulu two two."

"Go for main," Said Zulu main.

"Stand by for nine line."

The chatter stopped. Zulu main replied, "Standing by."

Arshall looked at his script, "Line one: six one three four eight seven five two. Line two: this frequency, Zulu two two. Line three: one urgent."

"Break. Say again line one." Said Zulu main.

"Line one: six one three four eight seven five two." Marshall waited.

"Standing by."

"Line four: ventilator, blankets, and drinking water. Line five: one litter. Line six: enemy is sixteen point zero nine three kilometers to the north. Line seven: LZ will be marked with smoke. Line eight: one us army. Line nine. Open desert with mountains to the north. How copy?"

"Main copies all. Be advised, bird is fourth five mikes out."

"Solid copy."

The transition ended and Marshall gave another sigh. He put a hand on his face and breathed deeply.

"Does this mean you will be leaving us. My friend?" Razib Asked.

Marshall looked at him and replied, "I need to go back. I can't stay here. You have all the help you need now. My place is in my country. I'm still a part of this war."

Razib nodded, "I understand. You have truly been the Miracle we needed, my friend. I will miss you. Thank you for all that you have done for us."

"I wish I could do more Razib. I feel like I may have not done enough."

"You have, my friend. That is why you are leaving. God wants you home now. He has paved this way for you. Take it. We have everything we need. Like you said. You have trained many of our women to treat our sick and injured. They are ready to do this on their own. You have nothing to worry about now."

Marshall felt a wave of relief that he was going home, but a wave a dread he was leaving. They had become dependent on him. He saw them as his own children. He didn't want to leave them. But at the same time, he didn't want to stay in this hellhole. He was ready to go. He exited the tent and was met with a crying young boy. "Papa don't leave!"

Marshall was surprised by the bold action. "Aabinus?"

"Don't go. You have to stay! We have to fight off the murders! Please papa!" He begged.

His sister later joined him. "No papa don't go!"

He had them both in his chest. The fact they called him papa was heart wrenching for him. Aabinus crying was also a shock to him. The boy who refused to cry for his family and his misfortune cried because he was leaving him. It made Marshall wonder how his parents actually treated him. How did he treat Aabinus? How did he treat his sister? Somehow, better than they treated them. Me hugged them tightly and said, "I'm sorry, but I have to, you must stay here and protect your people. I have to go and finish this war."

"But you can finish it here! I can help you. You remember? What we did together. We can do it until there all dead! Please, just stay."

Marshall kept the boy close and said, "I can't do that. I know you want me to, but I can't. Aabinus, you are growing into a strong young man. You are stronger than I was when I was your age. The both of you are. You struggle together, fight together, and you persevere together. You need to keep that mentality going. I have taught you how to survive out there, Aabinus. I taught you to teach your sister and take care of her. I expect you to be able to do that as you grow older. Can I trust you to do that? Can you be strong for me? Make the harder choices like I have? Can you be a warrior for your people?"

Aabinus sniffed and nodded, "Yes. I will. I can. But what will I do without you?"

"You will become stronger than me. You don't need me anymore. Your age does not restrict you from experience. It just makes you prove that you are stronger than half of all of America. Not even grown men can do what you do. I will return one day, Aabinus. And I want to see you stronger than me. Don't let me come back and see you like those terrorists out there. Remain who you are and grow in it. I love you both." He hugged them.

"We love you too." The little girl sobbed.

"Eva, take care of your brother. And remember all he teaches you, do not part from him and remain kind always. Like you are now. Be safe." The shared another hug. "And Aabinus. I want you to have this."

Aabinus took the Uzi from Marshall. Marshall smiled, "O've used that since we've begun our little partnership. I want you to use it now. Don't use it yet. Learn for the Israeli how to use this weapon one you grow up old enough. This weapon, with you as its operator, will protect these people, your people, your family."

Aabinus nodded, "I won't disappoint you, I promise, Miracle."

"I know you won't. I never taught you how to do that." Marshall smiled. The smile left and Marshall put a hand to both their faces. He wiped their tears away then said a final, "Goodbye."

The soldiers themselves, though they couldn't understand a word they said felt the sorrow leak off of them. "Doc, are sure you want to leave? You look pretty at home here."

"No, I'm ready to go," Marshall replied. "They don't need me anymore."

Marshall gave the boy one last look. He had stopped crying now. He was tending his sister while slinging the Uzi over his body like Marshall did all the time. His sister and he waved at Marshall with a smile then turned their backs to go to their tent. The one Marshall no longer would rest with them in. Come to think of it, all his stuff was there. Marshall thought about it, but decided that Aabinus should keep it. God knew he deserved it with all they've been through.

A few hours later, Marshall was in the hospital with his soldiers he found. He still had the AK around his body. He stared off into space seeing the familiar yet foreign look of the hospital. A cafeteria here, some architecture there. Blue scrubs walking this way, maroon that way, purple another way... someone was trying to grab his weapon! Marshall quickly swung his elbow behind him accidentally elbowing the "attacker" and stepped back a few aiming the weapon at them. It was just an air force girl. She was covering the spot he hit and crying. He widened his eyes.

"You can't bring your weapon in here. It's upsetting the patients!" She said nearly sobbing.

Marshall was dumbstruck. He looked around and every eyes was on him. He took the weapon off and handed it to her. "I...I'm so sorry," he apologized then scurried away as fast as he could like a wild animal. Marshall bashed the bathroom door and ran inside going to a sink and puffing for air, he rinsed his face then looked up at his reflection. What he saw staring back scared him. "Is that...me?"

Marshall felt the heavy beard he had developed and touched his long. He felt his skin and the reached out at the mirror. He started to cry. When he thought about what he did, stuck here and alone. Abandoned and afraid. Emotions overwhelmed him. He had basically become no better than an animal. His behavior was basically a machine meant for combat. He couldn't remember what his home address was. He couldn't even remember if he had family. He tried to remember his life in America, but all he got was how to live in the terribly humid desert and survival tactics for being in the city. He cried more pulling at the hair on his head. What had he become?

X X X

Marshall yawned as he stretched his arms out and sat up. Everest was sleeping soundly by his side. He smiled at her beautiful image: her hair sprawled out, a smile on her face as she dreamed about the night, and the blanket barely covering her pale figure dressed in one of his favorite button up shirts. She was too much to take in right now. He had to look away. He got out of the bed and scratched his chin. It was a little fuzzy. He clicked his tongue and went into her bathroom grabbing a razor and some shaving cream. As the water ran, he stared at his reflection. He felt the fuzz of his jaw imagining in the mirror a heavy bearded man with long hair staring right back. It made him frown. He looked down and away only to look up again and see his own true reflection. After rinsing his face several times he got to shaving the beard and mustache off and looking clean shaven. That was the Marshall he knew. That was the Marshall he wanted to be...not the one In Syria. His melancholy was interrupted by the tired long haired Zombie trudging her way to him.

"Good morning," She greeted hugging him and kissing his shoulder.

"Good morning," He smiled back, "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks to you." His button up shirt was hanging by her wrists. Her black tank top and underwear were the only things she had else to cover her. "It's really cold right now so I'm going to turn on the fireplace and make breakfast, okay?"

"Sure, sounds good. I'll help as soon as I get my shower." He kissed her and massaged her scalp.

"Mm, why don't ask join you then do all that stuff?" She smiled as his hands relaxed her head.

"Why don't you?" He grinned.

Everest was surprised by his willingness. He was usually the one to shoot down her teasing. Something wasn't right. The she remembered, "Oh that's right, it's abstinence week. Where I refrain from riding you and you pay me three hundred dollars worth of 'check ups' in the end."

"I thought you wouldn't cancel today," he smiled.

"Oh no," she smiled reaching the door. She put a hand up on the frame while turning around and lifting g one leg. Her other hand went to her hip. She let the shirt slide only just enough to expose her shoulders. Some of her hair went over her left eye. "I'm a good girl. I make it to _all_ my appointment on time." She strutted away with perfection and extra hip motion. "Oh and by the way: nice shave, you clean up nice." The she left for good.

Marshall chuckled and felt his chin. He looked back at the mirror and sighed. "What have you become?" It was a question he had found a different answer for. And it was all thanks to her.

X X X X

And so it continues. Who shall it be? Who's dark past will be reviled? That's for you to decide. If you want to get to know someone you have but to ask, right? So what are you waiting for? Ask away.


	3. Kill Count

Kill Count

Word of Wisdom: you know what the biggest mistake a sniper can make is? Hitting the head when you aim for the body. Now you gamers might laugh and say, "Chase, you idiot, If I hit the head it's because of nothing but skill. Besides headshots always count as the best shots." Well your wrong. If you were aiming for the body and you hit the head, you still missed. Hitting anything but the intended target is a miss. And the body is always the intended target.

—Chase S. Roberts, July 4th, 2011

Chase locked his Barrett .50 and waited in his spot for the longest time. He watched for any sights of a no go. Overwatch was a long and painful watch. It sucked, but it was necessary. "There was one," he whispered. A man was digging a hole. Chase watched as he was getting an IED ready. "No, I don't think so." He pulled the trigger and the man went down. Lifeless. He sighed and continued to search. "Well Damn, that's another," He shot a man with an RPG aiming at a stagnant convoy. The convoy saw this and stood alert. He didn't pay it much mind. Mostly because they were pretty much taking care of it, he just searched the area to ensure there were no others. There was one, a sniper just set up shop. A dial turn here and another there and Chase took the shot. The man died where he set up. His friend, whom Chase didn't notice till then, started running after picking up the rifle. Chase dropped him quickly. He sighed and shook his head. "Why?"

Be that as they were they were still really active today. Chase groaned. He needed to use the latrine. Bad. But he didn't know when his relief was coming so he didn't move from that spot for twenty four hours now. The room still smelled like urine from last time. Chase sighed again and forced his bladder to empty on the ground where he lay. It was bittersweet relief. He was wet now, but he felt like he could go for a whole day again. He got the tube of his camelback and sipped from it. He wiped the sweat that pooled on his forehead. Now would be a good time for that relief.

"Here I am, I got you Roberts."

Chase sighed but didn't pull away, instead he downed another bomber. "Aw, what kept ya?"

"Nothing, I got lost for a few seconds. Here now...whew, smells like shit in here."

"That would be about maybe...twelve quarts worth of piss you are smelling." Chase said as his relief was setting up. He finally pulled away when he got tapped on the shoulder.

"I have to shoot in this? Forget it, anything to hand off?" Asked his relief.

"Yeah, there's a lot of activity out there and most of the boys are handling it but a lot of it is hard to spot, just look for motive and take 'em out. Most of it is IED planting."

"Hooah, I got you, Rob. Have a good rest." His relief grimaced and groaned as he realized he laid in a puddle of Chase's urine. "Man! That's some gross shit, dude. Seriously bro."

"It's piss, the doc says it's actually quite sterile." He grinned shouldering his Barrett.

His Relief chuckled sarcastically, "Like hell its sterile. Get out of here and wash the shit off, man."

"Again, it's just piss. I didn't shit for twenty four hours. Good luck, man."

"Fuck you," and a middle finger went up as the sniper looked down his scope.

Chase shook his head and chuckled. After returning his rifle to the armory he made his way back to the tents and set up to get some sleep. His bunk mate, Cpl. Cupp, was out and about on the base. He, however, wouldn't have to report for anything for some time. Chase debloused, took off his wet trousers, and replaced his underwear. He put on a new T-shirt and pair of trousers then laid on his rack. He gave a satisfied sigh before dozing off.

It only felt like minutes, maybe seconds that Chase found himself awake to the sound of Master Sergeant Rowel calling his name outside his tent door. "Roberts! Roberts! Open up, son!"

Chase roused and sat up on his cot. "Master Sergeant?"

"Yes that's me, now get out of your tent and get out here. I got somethin' for ya, Sergeant," said Rowel.

Chase sighed and put on a new uniform. Once he was dressed he made his way out of the tent and looked for the Master Sergeant. Rowel was a good leader but he had to find someone else to do his heavy lifting. "If I had a penny for every time he's asked me to go in that city with a squad of Rangers I'd have..."

"A bronze star! If you save enough of 'em. Listen, Sergeant, Major Bowie has tasked me with finding someone to get in that damnable city and lead some boys to find someone. An Afghan named Azad Shammas. Nothing you can't handle."

Chase rubbed his forehead and asked, "I've been on eight over watches and six scouting parties in a row, Master Sergeant. I'm...not exactly in the best shape for..."

"I get it it's hard being the best goddamn soldier on this base but there's more to this than just another day gone by and another terrorist in the sand. This one's got bonus and pay grade written all over it. The major has already signed the papers you could be staff sergeant after today, Roberts. Think of it, son. The shitbag responsible for this...shit. Once he's gone we can move onto more relaxed things. Less scouts going out, less people gettin' shot at; more time in the bunks. That's what you want the rest of this tour don't ya?"

Chase sighed and thought about it. "I don't know. I would like to go on less runs..."

"Done. Less runs, a bonus, and a promotion, all yours with just one well placed bullet. Come on, whadoya say?"

The deal was pretty good. If he could get all that, he could send in a package for Delta faster. Marshall could probably join him if he was pulling his strings right. God knew Marshall was treated much the same way. Hell, Marshall went double the amount of scouting parties than any medic in the base. And him for that matter."

"Okay, I can do it, just give me time to get a squad together and..."

"Already made up. You leave tomorrow."

"Is Sergeant Benton on that list of men?" Chase asked, hope in the back of his head.

"'Fraid not, Roberts. I tried but a couple of soldiers got hit just outside the city. Poor sods requested backup and need it bad. Your going after this Iraqi with the marines in the city and he's going to escort the poor wounded warriors to the MASH nearby. The only MASH at that. It's the only medical facility we got too. Just pray doesn't get hit. He's probably doing the same for you."

Chase sighed. This would have been a good run for him to go in with him. Command just loves to put a smile on your face. Now if they'd just put on right side up they'd be doing just fine. "Yes, Master Sergeant. I'll get ready for tomorrow."

"See that you do," Rowel nodded, "An, Chase, thanks for taking this. If I can help it, I'll see about getting you boys home. It's been near that time anyway."

"Thank you, sergeant." Chase smiled. Once he turned around he frowned again. "Damn it, I already regret taking the job."

X

A good three months had past. Chase and his scout team had been staying in the city for all that time. No sign of the guy they were looking for...until now. Rumor had it, if not conjecture, that Shammas was hiding in a little corner of the city for the past few weeks. He had been dictating the movements of his men. Most likely, since there wasn't much trouble going on, he was trying to gather information. Now they we're planning on moving in. Marines were gonna do it, but they weren't going to be alone. Chase and his squad was counted in too. He was once again trusted with overwatch. It became a dislike real fast real quick. His men were going to go in with the marines and he was just supposed to watch with two HOGs and a spotter. To make things worse, the spotter was a Marine. Chase watched the team tactfully approached the position in question. They moved with a purpose until they had come upon it a few buildings away.

"Overwatch, see anything? Over." Asked the marine squad leader. Chase could easily pick him out. He was the tall one with more muscle than a bear and an M4 with an M203 attached to its underrail. He was the only one with one on his rifle. If that didn't do it, his face did. He was as ugly as his nickname. Werebear or something like that. That and his appearance was not up to regulation, but it matched perfectly with the name. Chase stopped himself there. In a place like this, was it there any way to keep up with regulation? Chase felt his own face. He was pretty unsat himself. The scruff was just enough to look like a morning shade and then some.

"Negative, you are in the clear. Over." Replied one of the HOGs.

Chase kept a watchful eyes. As did the other two. Then he spotted something. Movement maybe? "Werebear, keep an eye on your nine o'clock over, I think I saw movement. Over."

Werebear pointed at the direction and replied, "Roger six o'clock. I don't see anything. Over."

The team split surrounding the building now. Chase stared at the one position then moved his scope up seeing a man on the phone looking down on the breaking up on the joint squad.

"Shit! Werebear, you've been spotted act now. We got a hostile, roof, third floor balcony." He pulled a gun and was about to shoot downward on them but Chase acted faster. "Tango down! Be advised, Werebear, you are compromised, I repeat you are compromised, recommend you pull a out of there we don't know how many are coming!"

"Negative, we've got this cover us and let us know if more are coming!" Werebear shouted.

"We've got movement from northeast to southeast. Holly shit, it's a trap! They're trying to trap you!" Shouted a HOG. The three snipers took each shot they could find, trying to ease up the pressure. The hardest part was trying to fight with the wind. The marines and soldiers positioned to keep a line of defense as half of the squad breached the building. They were already almost over their head. Back up was requested and on its way. That would hopefully Alleviate some of the pressure.

"Fast moving vehicle!" The spotter shouted, "Northeast Road!"

Chase recognized it. Car bomb. A vehicle that small wouldn't be used under extractive circumstance. Chase aimed carefully and took the shot. The force of the bullet made the driver crash into the line of terrorists and blow the nearby building it had eventually settled in. Only problem: the building was weak enough as it is. Now...it was toppling over. On one good end, that meant a front was cut. But in another end, this one not so good, the building was toppling over towards the target. A new end presented. One in the shape of a dead HOG. Chase and the two marines left with him aborted their position and ducked behind the ledge.

"Damn it! Max! Max come on! He's gone! The bastards killed!" Shouted the last standing HOG.

"Get a grip, man, we're still in this. Get his tags, we need to keep this up. They need overwatch,"

"Where the hell are we supposed to go? Where the hell is that fucker? I'll kill him!" Shouted the HOG.

"I don't know where he is but we have to find him later. He's looking at us right now, we need to keep it that way."

"Gotta plan?" The HOG asked.

Chase thought about it for a good minute or two. "Stand fast." He peaked over carefully seeing a structure in front of them a good distance away. All of the windows were blown open. The building they were on was a few stories itself. The plan formed and finalized. If they were lucky. Along the way would give them their shooter. "Okay, go down a level or two and set up with your lookout." Chase took his bag off and swung his rifle on his back taking Max's as well. "I'm going to stay up here and draw his fire. Stay low and try to see if you can find him. If at all it feels like he's going to tag you, get down. He can only shoot one floor at a time." Chase took Max's rifle and set the tripod on the ledge. "Now after I run out of this, I'm going to move and see if he can keep track of us. He won't if he's by himself. Once in a while, go up or down a floor just keep a vantage on our guys. They need overwatch. That's what you will do." He said pointing at the lookout. "You keep eyes on our guys while he's moving floors. We're going to kill this guy then get back to the task at hand."

"Overwatch! Overwatch! Where is sniper support, you've been silent for a while and we've had too many surprises!" Shouted Werebear.

"Sniper support is disabled," Chase replied, "We got a marksmen on us. We'll try to keep him on us."

"Fine! Don't get killed, Army! And don't lose any of my men!"

"Werebear," the HOG said taking the reply, "Max is down. I got his tags."

"Fuck! Damn it! Fine, bring 'em to me when you finish. We gotta get out of here! I'm calling an evac, you better be on it!"

"Roger that! Alright, Sarge, Ready?"

"Let's do it," Chase chambered Max's rifle and stood up. He took a few peaks before ducking and hearing a round whiz right above his head. He exhaled feeling his life flash before his eyes for a split second. He moved positions and tried again. This time he fired a shot at some of the guys below. He ducked again this time seeing the building's ledge suddenly shatter just as he ducked.

"Okay, I'm in position," the HOG said.

The spotter spoke after him, "We can't see the shooter anywhere. He's hidden pretty well."

"Keep looking." Chase said as he continued expending Max's last few rounds. One he ran out he threw the rifle down and said, "Okay, I'm Oscar Mike. Keep him busy if you can, I'm moving locations."

"How do you plan on getting out on the streets without getting caught?" Asked the HOG.

"I didn't say I was using the streets," Chase replied. "Cover fire!"

"What are you doing, man?"

Chase took off at a run and jumped the building to the next one about a good three yards away from him. He landed just right into one of the windows. His victory lasted a short time as he found himself rolling right into a caved in roof. The fall surprised him, but wasn't deadly. He groaned and held his leg. It could still move and work, but it was in a lot of pain after all it had to absorb. He took a breather and moved when he felt he had recovered. The walking was a bit painful. "How are you doing, man?"

"I'm low on ammo and this guy won't stop shooting at me. We need to leave soon. Werebear's evac is almost here!"

"They'll be picking up a graveyard if you don't keep him distracted," Chase warned. Chase looked out the window and peaked around, trying to find the shooter. Eventually he found what looked like a rifle barrel. Bingo, that was him. Chase took out his rifle and shot a warning shot at him. This forced the barrel to retracts. "Your green, continue firing and provide Overwatch. I'll keep him busy."

Chase got close and climbed a Level. Another shot made the barrel retracts again. When Chase moved a second time, he found the barrel in another location, looking for him. He grinned. Now he had the upper hand, he was going to milk ever second of it until he got this bastard killed or on the run. Each shot gave Chase more flexibility to move closer. Eventually he got to the same building that the shooter was in. He informed the HOG what was going on and continued cautiously. It didn't take him long to track down their shooter. He could hear the casual shots fired right in the next room. He peaked in quietly to get a sighting...but what he saw shocked him.

"...No...no you have to be kidding!" He tried to convince himself it wasn't what he thought, what he saw. Sure enough, from a second glimpse, he had to accept it. There on the other side, was a young boy, maybe old enough to be just in his teens. He struggled a bit with reloading his draganov after he fired his last shot. Chase didn't know what to do. He couldn't just kill him! Another shot fired and Chase new he had no choice.

"Hey, army! You found that fucker yet? He just hit my spotter! Hurry up!" Said the HOG.

Chase pulled out his M9 and aimed at the kid. Better to take him by surprise. The trigger pulled and the poor little boy had lost fragments of his brain. His draganov flew out the window he used and part of his body hung over out of the window. It nearly fell out if Chase hadn't caught it in time. He laid the boy on the ground and closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry." An apology could never take back what had happened. But it was worth a try.

"Hey! Dude, where the hell are you? I can see out target! He's making a run for it!" Shouted the HOG.

Werebear didn't waist a minute to say the same, "Overwatch Overwatch, I can see Shammas! Can you get a beat on him?"

The HOG replied quickly, "I think I can! Taking the shot!" A pause of a second had passed, "Fuck! I missed him but I got one of his bodyguards, there just huddling over him!"

"I'm getting eyes!" Chase informed making a run for the window and setting up. He found the group the marines were talking about and took a shot of his own. He got one of the human shields but no joy for the target. Shammas was almost in the car. Chase and his fellow overwatch tried to avoid the inevitable but it was too late...he had made it to the car and was now being evacuated. Werebear's evac had also arrived.

"Overwatch! Get off the roofs! We're coming to you!"

"Roger that!" Said the HOG.

Chase pulled from the window and ran after the moving vehicle's view. "Negative, I can get him!"

"Don't even try it, army! You can't take down target who's being meat guarded on a moving vehicle!" Werebear Shouted.

"I don't know where you marines get your stupidity from put it needs to give it a rest. Watch this!" Chase smirked running from rooftop to rooftop. He cut some corners, set his rifle and held his breath, the shot was quick and without a second guess. He growled seeing as he only shattered a window. It was good enough for a view. He ran more trying to keep up with the vehicle.

You'd better get your ass back to the evac, Sergeant! We can't leave a man behind!"

"I'm not being left behind, Werebear, I'm covering your six. You'll see me back at base. Trust me. I'll get a picture. Good luck." Chase took another shot, this time hitting the winds heard through the broken window. He kept he pursuit up and ignored Werebears shouting. It got to a point where he took the earpiece out and let it dangle in a pocket. The van was getting out of sight. He had to try something different. He changed targets. If he wanted to stop the man from running, he had to clip his legs. So he went for the tires. The shot was going to be difficult. He had a shrinking target. No matter, he aimed and lined up as best as he could and held his breath. The shit was taken and the van spit out of control into an abandoned shop. Chase caught up a little seeing some men limp out of the van and point their rifles in various directions. They looked for Chase without any hope. Chase shot the one closest to him. They fired at his direction hopelessly. He shit another and another. The last one grew a brain and hid away. Chase grounded himself from the roof he was on by an old ladder and carefully approached. He pulled out a grenade and threw it at the position. Once it was off he sprinted to the spot and found the hider dead. Chase looked in the van and found only two stragglers coughing out blood. He used his M9 to finish them then bravely climbed in. If his drill sergeants saw him now, they'd drop him for causing himself unnecessary risk. He was entering a recked vehicle. In the back he found Shammas, bloodied and also trying to excrete the blood from his airway. Chase too, his knife out for this one and gut him. He wasn't even worth a bullet. After the kill was made, he took some pictures and made his merry way back to the base.

The base was probably a couple hours in walking. His appearance had astonished the entire checkpoint. His squad was the first to greet him as soon as he announced his presence and got in. Werebear was the next meet with him.

"So, you're still alive. We marked you down as MIA." He grunted, looking Chase over.

Chase chuckled and shook his head. He threw the camera at Werebear and closed in, "Look at my name tape. Does is say 'Marines' on it? Didn't think so. We don't lose people who make promises, Werebear. Have more faith in your squad. It might help." Chase left joining his army squad in a small celebration. Werebear wasn't usually one to take crap from anyone. But, to him, Chase very well earned the privilege. As the army squad laughed together Chase had caught wind of a radio team receiving an destress call. Amidst the chatter and calm speech Chase picked up a few words to get a gist of the message. An attack, somewhere in a medical camp. Chase paused. A medical camp? It was marine. A MASH? Chase's eyes widened. If it was the MASH they would only be calling because the pay were closest. Marshall was there! Chase stepped inside the room and asked, "What's going on?"

One of the many shuffling men replied, "The MASH is getting hit. We're trying to mobilize back up as fast as we can."

"Send my squad! We can get there!" Chase promised.

"Suite yourself! As long as your geared up!" He got on a speaker and announced the message causing a heard of geared Marines to head towards the humvees. Chase and his squad was one of them. The small convoy headed out quickly. As soon as they hit the area it was obvious what was causing the problem. Mortars. The marines and squad of soldiers were forced to spread out as soon as a mortar hit their road. Chase's driver veered off and started sliding on the dirt. They tried to get closer but started taking heat as they approached. The squad ducked and dismounted the opposite end that the shots were coming from. The MASH was taking too much fire. Anyone trying to evacuate would just get killed!

Chase knew what had to be done. Marshall had to wait. "Squad! We need to find where those mortars are coming from! If this heat keep up everyone's going to turn into ash!"

"Sarge! We can't possibly hope to find those nests at this time 'a night! We don't even know what's shooting at us!"

"I'll worry about that!" Chase shouted, "use the vehicles as cover and move the north east! That's where the shooting is coming from! I'm willing to bet that's where they're shelling us! Get moving!" Chase set his rifle on the hood of the humvee and looked around with his eyes. As soon as he spotted movement, he aimed at his target, getting a confirmed image then took the shot. The squad did as they were told and started moving towards the hostile fire. They began using the boulders that their enemy was possibly using as well. Chase continued to search for any possible targets. His main indication was barrel flash. Soon he began moving up. They had started noticing a large flash the closer they got to what they felt was their threat.

"I got eyes on a nest. Three tango!" A soldier confirmed.

"I see 'em!" Another soldier complied.

"Smoke those bastards!" Chase ordered. He heard the sounds of a mortar fire followed by the sound of soft but close rumbles then silence.

"There down, nest is done for!" Confirmed the soldier.

"Blow it," Chase replied. He looked for more flashes. There was one other mortar but it seemed to be too far from the road. If they were lucky, tackling the nest would be unnecessary. The likelihood they had enough ammo was very slim as well. He heard a large explosion at his right. If it weren't for his hearing protection he'd be deaf.

"Nest is done for!" A soldier shouted.

Chase examined for anyclose by hostile. It was too dark for much to be found. The most he could do was see the flashes or rifles point at each other accusingly and faint shouting as well as the rapid thumping. "Let's get in there! Help with evac!" Chase ran into the MASH with his squad grabbing various wounded and loading them into trucks. There wasn't much left to evac. Chase scared the area frantically as he worked, hoping to find Marshall alive, or not at all. Either would indicate he was alright...almost. His searching was soon rewarded. A call for medic alerted him. He turned around and their, low and behold, was the daring 68 Whiskey Airborne Ranger running to the call. Chase smiled and shouted once but his smile was short lived. Marshall lifted his patient but nearby a shell had struck and the two went flying. "Marshall!" Chase ran and shouted. He tried to get an indication his brother was alive. A bus, not too far away took off seeing the mortar fire. Chase kept shouting Marshall's name. Finally, as he had gotten close enough, he found Marshall alive but rather confused.

"Marshall, get up! Get up! Get up; get up; get up! Come on we gotta move!"

"Chase?" Marshall blinked and widened his eyes as many times as he could. "What happened? Where am I?"

Chase didn't like the sound of that. He couldn't stop now. "I'll explain everything later! Let's go!" Chase started dragging him out of the area. Him and his soldiers boarded the last bus and drove off without pause. An escort shortly fallowed and the MASH became a ghost town with nothing but the licks of fire and the dead populating it's once proud standing medical tents. Chase had never been so scared as he saw what they left behind. Supplies were made useless as they lay on the ground. Body parts were spread across the dirt, stone, and sand. He thought he saw a body move towards the bus, an outstretched hand begging to stop them, but it dropped and he couldn't find it again. Chase wanted to stop the bus, look for him or her, and take her back to safety. But he convinced himself that it was only a ghost of soldier still trying to crawl away from the flames engulfing the camp. He could have sworn it called out but no one could yell that loud. Chase closed his eyes. He imagined being a soldier, wounded from battle, not quite yet recovered trying to get off his cot and crawl from the tents as they had caught fire. He imagined as he was trying to put it out. He rolled like he was taught. But the act was an urban legend. He screamed and cried. But no one heard him. He tried to crawl again... but the fire was too heavy. He was just at the edge now, barely recognizable. But then Hope arrived...and passed him. He crawled further daring to raise a hand and shout. "Don't leave me! Hey I'm here! Please!" Then his hand dropped. "Please..." he was now sobbing. Thinking of the girl he left at home, the kids he promised to return to, and mom and dad's proud faces turning into despair as they are told they're soldier would not be returning home. Then it all faded the burning stopped the heat was gone...and a Corporal was shaking him awake.

"Sarge, you okay?" He asked

"I'm fine." Chase wasn't lying, but he wasn't being honest either. Chase rubbed his hands together and assured the corporal he would alright. Once the soldier took a seat Chase looked at Marshall. His face was buried in his hands. Chase did the same. He was ready to rest.

When his glance lifted and his eyes opened he saw Skye smiling at him. "Boo."

Chase smirked and breathed in sharply. "Hi."

Skye leaned back on a straight posture, "You like?"

Chase looked her up and down and raised his eyebrows. He nodded slowly and answered, "Makes you look skinnier than usual. She was dressing in silk pajamas that she had gotten from the mall a while ago. His comment was only a jab at the usual PAWS uniform she had to wear.

"You think I'm fat?" She exclaimed.

She wasn't offended. She was just playing along. But for some reason, Chase wanted to apologize. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

Skye lifted an eyebrow. His apology was too sincere for the playful atmosphere. "I was just kidding, Chase, don't feel bad. I believe what you meant to say was, 'It makes you look really sexy, Skye.'" Her fat lipped, deep voice expression brought a bigger smile to his face as she wrapped her arms around his neck and sat on his lap.

"Do I always sound that odd to you?" He asked with a cocked brow.

"I'm sorry," she replied just as sincere, "I didn't mean it."

Chase scoffed and laid back. "Your a gifted impressionist. What, did my apology kill the mood?"

"Mm, it just sounded a little down is all." She laid her head on his chest and rubbed a muscle. "Are you okay?"

Chase paused. He inhaled and wrapped his arms around the small operative as she cuddled closer to his neck. "I'm better now that I'm here."

Skye smiled and cooed softly. She frowned and asked, "Was it...Iraq again?"

Chase gripped her into a bit of a squeeze. The name of the country always did this to him. She hated it. If there was one wish that she could make she would wish that people like him and Marshall could remember what it was like to relax.

"Chase...we all regret something. We all want to take mistakes and decisions back and redo them to make a perfect world. But that is all apart of learning and becoming better people. You couldn't have done anything for that soldier." Chase closed his eyes. Skye positioned so she could look him in those eyes that were bound to open soon. "Chase, the lives you saved, the men and women and children you have rescued as an operative, are all due to the fact you never leave a person in need. Soldiers like you, who push through their problems without self pity, are what make cities like this safer. Regardless of who hates you, regardless of what they call you, and regardless of what they called you, you chose to sacrifice your life so they could still do it. You and me both know that we lost more than we promised to give."

A tear escaped Chase's eye. His eyelids could no longer stop them.

"I believe it's due to the fact...we believe we still haven't lived up to our part of the deal. We haven't given enough; we haven't served enough. And we feel so indebted that we try to make up for it in community service and simple acts of kindness. But it still isn't enough. Chase, everyone thanks you for your service and for making the ultimate sacrifice. But have they ever told you you've given too much?"

Chase sighed. Skye started stroking his hair. "Because you have. We have. We have given our heart, our soul, mind, and strength just so we can serve people that they may be free another day. I may be a veteran too, but I want to give back what you've given everyone else. Your least is far behind you. Let's look ahead...together." She started to plant kisses on his neck and work her way up to his lips. Chase was so thankful for her. He had wondered how long he would have lasted without her. The thought was quickly pushed aside. He didn't have time to deal with the multiple possibilities of life. He had a lady to please.

X X X X

Are you military? If so, I just want you to know how grateful I am you have dedicated your time so I may write this, it isn't much, but it's among the only ways I can use my gift to tribute you. I want you to take what Skye said to heart. For though a hero's work is never done, it is never done without a thank you. May you be blessed for your sacrifice, even if it was just being a plumber (because your work contributes to buying another day of freedom.) 'Merica!


End file.
